We arrived in La Crosse, Wisconsin and took a walk around town. My connection to La Crosse (I am embarrassed to admit) was the scholarship that our youngest son was given to play lacrosse in college. I knew that Native Americans created the first version of the game that's now played all over the country. This riverside sign in La Crosse made me think of the current controversies about removing signs and statues that celebrate people who violated the lives and rights of others and that for some symbolize the wrong side of history. I saw the word "ceded" in this sign and just wondered exactly how that deal went down. I also wondered what is the actual definition of “cede.” The dictionary says it means “give up (power or land)” or “yield” or “surrender.” I wondered if the relatively uncommon, innocuous sounding word “cede” had been thoughtfully selected to strip all the pain and passion and other emotions that were at the core of the Native Americans being forced to give up, yield and surrender their lands to the European settlers.
Before we got on the road the next morning David had a close encounter of the expensive kind as he pulled out of a parking space and kissed the car next to him. He wrote a note to the then-absent owner and called the police to report the accident. Meanwhile the owner of the other car appeared and totally understood that accidents happen, and had no interest in waiting for the police to show up. So she and David exchanged information, she drove off, and David called the police, who then cancelled the squad car that was already on the way.
Us
Them
So off we went across the Mississippi which we won't do again until we arrive in New Orleans six weeks from now.
I am a rest stop junky. I’m not talking about the generic "here’s your McDonald’s" or "here’s your Pizza Hut" places that could be anywhere in any generic boring rest stop. Think the Vince Lombardi rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike (where the Joyce Kilmer stop comes in a close second). There's history there - displayed on large signs as you walk in the doors. Even if I don’t have to avail myself of the facilities I can’t go past the Kennebunk service area on the Maine Turnpike without a stop. Everything they sell comes from Maine including the lobster rolls. Thus as we cruised through Chamberlain, SD, going a cool 85 MPH (more about that later), I spied this extraordinary monument looming over the parking lot and made the turn off the highway. You can read about the statue honoring the Lakota and Dakota people by going to this website: Dignity Statue.
There was another quick off road stop when something truly unusual caught my eye as we barreled down interstate 90 . It was a 55-foot statue of the Jolly Green Giant Statue in Blue Earth, Minnesota. This was worthy of a quick pit stop even in the pouring rain.
And of course who could possibly pass through Austin, Minnesota without a stop at the Spam Museum?
Now, back to the subject of speed limits.
Now, back to the subject of speed limits. It appears that in states such as South Dakota, Wyoming and Montana, 80 mph is merely a suggestion of how fast your top speed might be. I remember vigorously nodding in agreement as Tom and Ray Magliozzi (Click and Clack Car Talk's Tappet Brothers) railed against the raising of speed limits in places like Montana and the Dakotas from 65 to 80. They weren't laughing their typical belly laughs as they pronounced the decision as Sheer! Insanity! Why on earth would anyone have to travel that fast? Didn't those yahoos out West realize how ridiculously dangerous this was, not to mention how much more gas would be guzzled by cars, pickups and 18-wheelers? I believe I listened to this particular broadcast stuck in traffic on the Mass Pike. The idea of moving at all was becoming an unachievable fantasy. The idea of going 80 miles an hour was ludicrous.
Well, after a week of driving on the highways in these states I can report that a 'suggested' speed limit of 80 is a brilliant idea and 85 is even better. Without it, no one could get anywhere because the distances are so vast. We met one couple that had to drive 75 miles, each way, to go to the nearest movie theater. Just to drive across Texas it is more than 800 miles; that’s twice the distance between Boston and Washington DC. You won’t get from here to there any time soon without going 80 mph.
Tom and Ray were probably assuming that everyone out here in the West drove like they do in Massachusetts (where many drivers are appropriately called Massholes even by people who live in the Bay State). That's just not the case. Out here in the West, drivers actually stay in the right lane until they need to pass. Here the passee doesn't engage in a drag race, making it impossible for the passer to achieve his or her goal. We have never seen anyone flip the bird to anyone else, and rarely see drivers talking on their phones or texting. It helps that there is a generous sprinkling of passing lanes in mountainous areas. And where they are none, the occasionally slower vehicles actually pull over to let faster traffic go by. The other huge factor is the scarcity of vehicles on the road. For many miles we are the only vehicle in sight. As fast as they go when you get to a town or crossing everyone automatically slows down to 45 or 25 - those signs are not suggestions.
People asked us if we were going to listen to books on tape as we drove. The truth is we haven't yet run out of things to talk about, inspired, generally by conversations we just had in the last town. Among many other things we've talked about is our desire to write this blog without letting our own judgments, attitudes and cultural assumptions get thrown into the mix and act as filters. When we get tired of talking we listen to music. It's a really weird mix of scratchy radio stations playing country or gospel music, scattered amongst stations on which someone reads the crop reports and others in which preachers sermonize. We have music on our phones. The Grateful Dead got us across southern Minnesota; Bob Dylan and The Band, and Lyle Lovett sang us across South Dakota. In Wyoming we listened to the sound track from The Commitments. If you haven't seen this movie or listened to the music treat yourself. Here's the link: The Commitments. We both love Leonard Cohen but found him too downbeat for road music, Not so for Bruce and Billy Joel who provide that wake up! magic. Finally today, going through the flat lands of Idaho, moving toward the snow covered peaks of Ketchum we listened, just of old times sake to Carole King singing Really Rosie. I still remembered every word. It was and remains just swell.